A farewell to ‘Parks and Recreation’



Something about getting political stuff done and looking business formal just makes for the best television (second only to combining a seemingly push-over high school chemistry teacher with the hardened world of methamphetamine trafficking).

With “House of Cards” returning on the eve of what was the latest in bittersweet endings to great television shows (“Parks and Recreation”’s final episode), I am at a strange impasse.

How long do I have to feel sad about the ending of one great show before I can jump back into a relationship with an old flame like “House of Cards?”

I will deeply miss “Parks and Recreation,” as well as Nick Offerman’s swell mustache. Few shows have as many well-timed quirky charms and can recycle impossible personality extremes into enjoyable characters (see: Jean-Ralphio and Mona-Lisa Saperstein).

Never has a show given me more feels for a three-legged dog or for the reformation of a pit into a children’s park. I can’t even hear the word “pit” without wanting to burst into a catchy song from the show.

How will I go on without the sage, anti-government prose of Ron Swanson (Nick Offerman) or the how-to-be-bae manual that is Donna Meagle?

No other show has such a mastery of utilizing minor characters and guest appearances, save maybe the first brainchild of “Parks and Recreation” producers Greg Daniels and Michael Schur, “The Office.”

Despite everything that I treasure about this show, I have to move on to greener, “dastardly-er” pastures.

And no one does dastardly like Kevin Spacey.

Ron Swanson’s outdoorsman physique is matched, if not surpassed in appealing characterization by the dapper, D.C. stud Frank Underwood. In a clearly one-sided match-up, the perkiness of Ann Perkins has nothing on the manipulating and fierce Claire Underwood.

It saddens me to say this because of the history we share, but I’m afraid I have to start seeing something more serious than comedic reruns. Every now and then I’ll remember our funny moments and the laughs we shared, but it is time for me to move to the bigger leagues.

Thank goodness this terrible decision-making logic only applies to my choices in drastically fictionalized television shows and not actual relationships, or I would seriously need some intense therapy.